


it's just a little too late

by simonlewlove (melfett)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Crying, F/M, Lots of Angst, Lots of Vampires, M/M, Pain, Self-Inflicted Wounds, The Clave (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Vampires, but basically lots of angst and babies in love and babies in pain, but it will be okay soon, but there is some blood and wounds in here, hahaha actually not too many mainly simon and raphael, it all has a happy ending, so simon feels human :(, that too, tons of angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-02 23:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6587890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melfett/pseuds/simonlewlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s one hell of a <i>lie</i>, when they say you can’t fall in love all over again,”He whispered to the crisp night air, clenching his hands tightly into fists. His nails sharply bit into the skin of his palm and crimson liquid spilled ever so lightly down his wrists. Damn. </p><p>Simon fell in love again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's just a little too late

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this for the Saphael Network One Song Challenge, and i also had to make my angsty speculations for post-morning star into a fic. here's my saphael pain put into one story that's going to have more chapters coming soon....
> 
> i hope you like angst as much as i do! 
> 
> (jk it kills me but the pain is good. thanks shadowhunters.)
> 
> say hi to me on tumblr, also, at simonlewlove!! :) i'd love to hear from you all! <33

_ He probably ruined every chance he ever had. _

  


_ It was probably too late to fix it now,  _ Simon thought, the 2006 song ringing in his ears.  _ You know it’s just a little too late.  _ He couldn’t help but chuckle at that, although it was certainly a lifeless, expressionless chuckle and even self-amusement didn’t make him feel the slightest bit better. 

  


It was two nights after he had smuggled Camille from the Hotel Dumort. Two nights after ruining everything that he’d worked so diligently for, dedicating weeks and weeks to physical training and mental training and sleepless nights and  _ him.  _ None of the training really mattered. Only Raphael did. 

  


And it hurt him, too, possibly more than it did Simon. Sure, Simon was already having trouble getting the blood that he so frequently needed and controlling himself with no support, but Raphael’s undead life was in shambles. Partially because Camille wasn’t in shackles. 

  


A pang of regret ran it’s way through Simon’s unbeating heart, and with a sharp kick of his foot against the stone beneath him, he wished that he was truly dead. Buried in the grave that instead brought him back to life.  _ Death would be better than heartbreak _ , he convinced himself, thinking that Clary would be the last. He’d fallen in love with Clary, and he promised himself that he wouldn’t be broken again, and just when his heart was about to mended,  _ just when she was right beneath his fingertips…. _

Simon fell for another. 

  


“It’s one hell of a  _ lie _ , when they say you can’t fall in love all over again,”He whispered to the crisp night air, clenching his hands tightly into fists. His nails sharply bit into the skin of his palm and crimson liquid spilled ever so lightly down his wrists. Damn. 

  


Simon fell in love again. 

The vampire ran his finger gently along the blood on his wrist, cursing at himself silently for the small incisions in his palm, carefully stopping himself from uttering “God.” Every ounce of blood wasted meant more of a fiery pain in his throat, more of a gut-wrenching, empty feeling. More of a chance to hurt the people he loved. As it was, there wasn’t enough blood at the Institute, and letting Simon stay was a risk for everyone there in the first place. He was lucky Raphael had trained him just enough so that he could control himself and refrain from biting an innocent person.  _ Well, from a distance, at least.  _ The only blood available in the Institute was from the pathology lab, kept in the rare instance that a Shadowhunter lost blood and needed a transfusion. The  _ worst  _ part was that the blood in the bags was Nephilim blood, and the first time the glass that Luke prepared him had touched his lips and the blood had reached his tongue, it was gone in no more than two seconds.

_ “Drink up,”  _ Luke had said, and he did nothing other than that. Simon’s eyes shut tightly as he held the glass to his lips still, downing every ounce of liquid left in the glass, cherishing the soothing feeling in his throat and the invigoration that flourished so newly in his body. Almost like he was alive again. The taste of  _ Shadowhunter _ danced on his tongue, and he faintly remembered Camille. 

  
  


_ “I smell Angel blood,”  _ The vampire hissed through sharp, elongated fangs, twitching at the scent. Sure, she was angry. But something else was there. Bloodlust.

  
  


Simon felt it too, and nearly snuck down for more of the Angel blood, considering not many were awake at this hour, but quickly ditched that option. The lives inside would be at stake. Blood for saving lives would be wasted on saving a monster. Instead, he chose the responsible path of standing on the roof of the Institute. Away from life. Away from humanity. 

  


Standing on the roof didn’t sound like a better option, but it was, Simon realized as he took shelter on a spacious, stone ledge at the height of the Institute. The fresh air brushed past his cheeks like soft fingers, reminding him of human days when he’d stand out in the cold and his cheeks would flush. The boy would hold his warm, gloved fingers to his cheeks and press firmly, slipping his knit beanie further over his face.

  


_ “It’s so-it’s so c-cold, Clary. I think I need another cup of coffee,” _ Simon uttered, a shiver running through his body. 

  


“ _ Oh, Simon, let’s go home,” _ Clary burst out with a smile, and he found himself laughing with glee. The boy remembered her grabbing hold of his hand with her silk fingers, dragging him gently along the streets of Brooklyn, city lights flashing above and around them. The city that never sleeps. Someone up in their apartment threw a party. Someone else was in a restaurant with their lover. Someone else was ice skating with their best friend in Central Park, looking up at the stars, thinking,  _ How could this get any better?  _ Simon found himself thinking the same thing. Wishing he’d treasured those nights even more than he had. Why didn’t any tell him it would be ripped away?

  
  


_ Stop it, Simon. Stop doing this to yourself. You’re an idiot. _

  
  


Reality hit him like a knife to the chest. It wasn’t the same anymore, and there was no point in wishing it could be. No point in torturing himself with memories that would just break him down and bring him to his knees. He wouldn’t be a slave to his emotions. There were no loving arms to pull him into an embrace, no mother, sister, or guardian to hold him. No Elaine. No Rebecca. Not even Clary cared enough. No Raphael.

  
  


Raphael.

  
  


First it was one drop of blood. Then it was two. It took him a minute to realize what was happening until he noticed that his vision was as black as the night sky. Dark blood accumulated in his eyelids, and he tried to prevent it, but it was to no avail. It spilled from his eyes and down his cheeks in a fury, a frenzy of  _ love-hate-pain-missing you-life-death-missing YOU-loss-agony-love-admiration-guilt-love-regret-love-love-love-LOVE- _

  


_ It’s just a little too late. _

  
  


The vampire clenched his fists tightly and let the crimson liquid spill out of his eyes and palms some more, crashing his hands against the stone barrier, watching bits of stone fall to the ground around his feet. Damn. Breaking Shadowhunter property wasn’t exactly beneficial. After knowing what they’d do to a Shadowhunter, he didn’t have any desire to know what the Clave would do to a vampire. The Clave had an all-too-common dislike of Downworlders that he himself hadn’t experienced much yet, luckily, and had no desire to. Raphael wasn’t fearful of breaking the Accords for no reason. He was cautious, and Camille was impulsive. They’d probably damn Simon to hell. Starve him. Lock him in a coffin for eternity. Kill him. 

  


None of them sounded all too bad, at the moment.

  
  


The pain that tinged his palms felt good. It wouldn’t stay, he knew, but the sharp, aching feeling of stone piercing his skin and bruised hands made him feel human just for a while. Just for a few minutes. 

  


The sun began to creep up, peeling away the darkness, replacing it with a bright, warm light. The sight tucked itself into his heart, washing a feeling of bliss through his body. It wouldn’t be long until he was burnt to a crisp, yet the sun was something he missed, something comforting, and he savored being able to watch it for just a moment. As the warmth tingled his skin throughout, prickles like the spines of a cactus itching at his skin, he decided it was time to give in. A deep sigh escaped his lips, reverberating off of the stone around him, reminding him once more that everyone was asleep and that they’d awake and he’d be stuck in the darkness. There would be no Raphael, no Stan, no spontaneous sight of a vampire to talk to. Loneliness would encompass his days for weeks, months, years- _ Who knows how long?  _ Forever was an answer that terrified him, and he held onto the fragile hope that he Raphael could forgive him someday. 

For now, the echo of the emptiness made him feel undeniably, painstakingly  _ alone.  _

  
  


_ Your chance has come and gone. _

  
  


The 2006 song still rang throughout his ears as he tossed and turned in his bed that night. There were no soft, silk sheets like those at the Dumort, no comforting room of his own with Star Wars posters plastered from wall to wall, an effort to make him feel at home. Raphael hadn’t minded. It made him smile when he walked in, something that surprised Simon as soon as he caught it. 

  


“You  _ like _ them? They’re collectibles, and I’m glad I brought them from home now, because they’re my  _ absolute  _ favorites and I know they’re great if they can even make  _ you  _ smile. They’re from when I first went to New York Comic Con with Clary, and they’re real ones from the 1980s. Real ones, that were in movie theaters and everything! Have you ever seen Star Wars? Because you know, if you haven’t, you really should consi-”

  


“You think I’d have the time to watch that?  _ Dios,  _ even I don’t have that much time on my hands,”Raphael sighed, itching the back of his head. “But I’d like to watch them.”

  


“I figured you didn’t, but you really should- _ Wait,  _ did you just say you’d  _ like  _ to watch them?”

  


Simon’s eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head.

  


“Yes. I would,”Raphael uttered, crossing his arms against his chest. He almost took it back just to refrain from getting another five minutes of rambling speech from the younger vampire, but something in him craved it.  _ Loved it _ . He liked to hear someone with such optimism, sunshine and flowers flourishing with every word, and he liked knowing that Simon cared. Simon cared about what Raphael thought, how he felt, and wanted to spend time with him. It was pure  _ bliss,  _ words filling his ears that he’d never get sick of. Not that he would ever admit it.

  


“Oh my G- _ Wow,” _ Simon choked, clenching his fists in excitement. “I thought I’d never hear that! I was planning on convincing you to have a movie marathon with me. If you want, we can watch them here, since I hooked up this HD TV the other day. I told you it would come in handy. In two days, Mr. Grouchy, we are having ourselves a Star Wars marathon!”His words came out as a ramble, a jumble of ecstasy jumping to and fro. The smile on his lips was undoubtedly bright enough to light up a room. 

  


He began to hum the Star Wars theme song at full force (pun intended), and Raphael left the room shaking his head, cursing himself for ever saying yes to this. That marathon would be a long night. If it had happened, that is.

  
  


They never got to have a Star Wars Marathon.

  
  


Simon couldn’t sleep that night. Something was missing. Many things were missing, he decided. Some things hadn’t even happened yet, but he missed them,  _ yearned _ for them, picturing them as crystal clear scenes in his mind. 

  


The most important thing missing, he decided, tucked in between cold sheets with cold fingers and a cold heart, was Raphael.

  
  
  


That night, Simon dreamt of faraway things, of sunlight and soft touches and  _ him. _

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
